


It's Your Love That Brings Me Home

by Nisaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Did I Mention Angst?, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kinda, Sibling Incest, Torture, Wincest - Freeform, Wincest Writing Challenge, memories of hell, poor sammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 22:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/pseuds/Nisaki
Summary: Dean is where Sam belongs





	

**Author's Note:**

> A very big thank you to the wonderful people organizing this challenge, your efforts are appreciated.  
> I chose Hurt Sam, The prompt was a pic of Sam in Toni's trunk ( you know the one). My partner for this round is Leahlisabeth
> 
> I just want to emphasise that the rape is NOT graphic.

When they'd found the banker Sam was tentative, scared of letting his guard down and call it home. Every place he built for himself was torn away from him cruelly, and he couldn't forget the flames that ate up what he thought his future.

Years passed, and he did forget, even through hard times and broken bridges, these walls had contained their laughter, gave them space and comfort, somewhere to call their own.

But when he stepped inside, without Dean, and without the hope of getting him back, the place was foreign and empty, dark with the lights on. These walls stood strong and blank and uncaring as he was shot in their embrace, and taken away from amongst hard concrete that didn't protect him.

It wasn't home anymore.

He realized in the milliseconds before that bullet entered his flesh, that with Dean he was never homeless. Wherever they were, dirty motels or cheap apartments, Dean's homemade meals and the sound of his voice, Dean's callused fingers caressing his skin lovingly, that was where he belonged. Sam was never home without Dean.

Toni dragged him out, and he fought because his body remembered that it should struggle, shouldn't make it easy. She put him in the trunk of a car, no use remembering the plate number, no use keeping track of how many times they turned.

She burned his feet and broke his rips, she took away his will.

He was dirty and stupid. So weak, he betrayed Dean, he should've known better.

_Please please  please stop_

He didn't say it, he didn't ask her to stop. Not once. He was moving, in that bed he wasn't tied up, and he hadn't thought of Dean.

_Why didn't he think about Dean?_

It's not his fault, she forced him, it was a spell.

_But he should've known, she wasn't Dean, why did he touch her?_

He wished that she'd done it like Lucifer did, left him whole, not drugged and hazy, made him feel it and scream and refuse.

 _Her hands felt like silk_.

He wished she tortured him some more, Lucifer had this game he used to play, where he would ask Sam things and every time he answered wrong (He always answered wrong) Lucifer would crave the right answer on his skin. He wished she'd done that, it was a good game.

_She tasted sweet._

Dean was salt and whiskey.  

 He tried to escape, he wasn't sure when it happened, was it before or after, he should've killed her, it was his fault after all. He should've been stronger.

 _But the room was spinning_.

When he ran out of excuses he started to dream, in his dream Dean was there, alive and chained beside him, and their mother was alive and he got out.

Dean insisted he was real, Sam had hard time believing.

 _She was so small_.

He wanted to erase it, make the memories of her disappear and never come back.

He was lying awake in his room, fighting his insides to keep his dinner down, Dean wouldn't be happy if he threw up, and he had to keep Dean happy, he couldn't fuck up more than he did.

 _Her hair smelled like roses_.

He didn't win the fight, the floor was soon covered with half digested food, and even when his stomach was empty, he heaved and panted. His room was too small, the walls were closing in on him, suffocating, he was in the banker but he wasn't with Dean, and he was lost and scared.

_The bed had golden bars, and the light was soft yellow._

He wept, hoping beyond hope that his scalding tears would cleanse him, offer him some kind of absolution but they didn't. His skin wasn't his own, and it wasn't Dean's. He didn't belong to Dean anymore. He couldn't recall them together without her taste souring their kisses, without her smell masking Dean's. Soft curves under his hands instead of strong arms holding him together.

''Sammy!'' His brother was suddenly there, pulling him up and out of his soiled room that smelled of vomit and salty sadness.

He kept on crying as Dean gently took his clothes off and bathed him, every invisible grain of dust, all the unseen blood traces that weren't there anymore. Dean washed them all away.

He laid him on the bed, and placed himself between Sam's legs, tracing the lines of his wasting muscles, hands careful, like he was a precious china doll that Dean didn't want to damage.

_Your favourite doll is broken, Dean._

''You're not broken, Sammy,''

 He closed his eyes because he was, because he was pathetic enough to want to believe he wasn't. Dean waited till they locked gazes again to enquire.

''What have she done to you?'' Dean whispered the question to the two inches between their lips. Even as a breath, the question was sharp and cutting and Sam didn't have an answer, maybe Dean suspected, maybe he knew and was simply thinking out loud. Sam wasn't hard to read for Dean, and it wasn't the first time Sam had broken down for this same reason.

Sam looked up at his brother, strong, and heavy, and big above him, searching for an answer in Dean's stare, what have she done?

_Cherry lips and blond long locks, small and pliant with soft curves, high pitched sounds and too much light, and the fragrance of roses. And it was all wrong._

On windy days when Sam was little, he used to pretend the wind could blow him away, he would run in its direction and shout, _Help, Dean, I'm flying away!_ And Dean would humour him, chase after him and act breathless, even when he always caught up effortlessly. He would carry Sam close to his chest and hold him tight, promise _Nothing can take you away from me, Sammy, they can try but I'll always find you and bring you home_. Dean's embrace is secure, more safe than any castle ever hopes to be.

 In a moment Sam was that little again, figure shaped out of smoke and would dissolve into nothingness with the softest breeze.

''She took away home,'' Sam sobbed, ''Take me back, Dean. Please,''

Dean kissed him, kissed all the healed wounds and what would've been burn scars, massaged previously broken rips. Licked him clean, brought back the scent of autumn, and fresh rain. Held him down, pinned him to reality and took him home.  

**Author's Note:**

> comments are the soul's nutrients <3


End file.
